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Quotes by Martial
174 quotations from The Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations (1896), with the subject each one is filed under.
The swan murmurs sweet strains with a faltering tongue, itself the singer of its own dirge.— filed under Birds-Swallow
Believing hear, what you deserve to hear: Your birthday as my own to me is dear. Blest and distinguish'd days! which we should prize The first, the kindest bounty of the skies. But yours gives most; for mine did only lend Me to the world; yours gave to me a friend.— filed under Birthday
Seria cum possim, quod delectantia malim Scribere, tu causa es lector. Thou art the cause, O reader, of my dwelling on lighter topics, when I would rather handle serious ones.— filed under Books
Rebus in angustis facile est contemnere vitam; Fortiter ille facit qui miser esse potest. In adversity it is easy to despise life; he is truly brave who can endure a wretched life. C.— filed under Bravery
Hoc ego, tuque sumus: sed quod sum, non potes esse: Tu quod es, e populo quilibet esse potest. Such are thou and I: but what I am thou canst not be; what thou art any one of the multitude may be.— filed under Comparisons
Sunt bona, sunt quædam mediocria, sunt mala plura. Some are good, some are middling, the most are bad.— filed under Comparisons
Hic rogo non furor est ne moriare mori? This I ask, is it not madness to kill thyself in order to escape death?— filed under Death
Calvo turpius est nihil comato. There is nothing more contemptible than a bald man who pretends to have hair.— filed under Deceit
Ride si sapis. Be merry if you are wise.— filed under Enjoyment
From Martial. While the daring Leander was seeking the sweet object of his love, and exhausted, was just being ingulfed by the swelling waves, the unfortunate adventurer is said to have thus addressed the menacing surges: "Spare me on my way; drown me on my return."— filed under Epigrams
If I remember right, Ælia, you had four teeth; a cough displaced two, another two You can now cough without anxiety more. all the day long. A third cough can find nothing to do in your mouth.— filed under Epigrams
Whoever believes it is of yesterday's wine that Acerra smells, is mistaken: Acerra always drinks till morning..— filed under Epigrams
Report says that you, Fidentinus, recite my compositions in public as if they were your own. If you allow them to be called mine, I will send you my verses gratis; if you wish them to be called yours, pray buy them, that they may be mine no longer.— filed under Epigrams
I do not love thee, Sabidius, nor can I say why; I can only say this, I do not love thee. 0. Martial-Epigrams. Bk. I. Ep. 32. The book which you are reading aloud is mine, Fidentinus; but, while you read it so badly, it begins to be yours.— filed under Epigrams
When Portia had heard the fate of her consort, Brutus, and her grief was seeking the weapon, which had been carefully removed from her, "Ye know not yet," she cried, "that death cannot be denied: I had supposed that my father had taught you this lesson by his fate." She spoke, and with eager mouth swallowed the blazing coals. "Go now, officious attendants, and refuse me a sword, if you will."— filed under Epigrams
Diaulus, lately a doctor, is now an undertaker; what he does as an undertaker, he used to do also as a doctor. γ.— filed under Epigrams
My books need no one to accuse or judge you: the page which is yours stands up against you and says, "You are a thief." S.— filed under Epigrams
Do you ask what sort of maid I desire or dislike, Flaccus? I dislike one too easy and one too coy. The just mean, which lies between the two extremes, is what I approve; I like neither that which tortures nor that which cloys.— filed under Epigrams
You are pretty, -we know it; and young,— it is true; and rich, -who can deny it? But when you praise yourself extravagantly, Fabulla, you appear neither rich, nor pretty, nor young.— filed under Epigrams
"You are too free spoken," is your constant remark to me, Chœrilus. He who speaks against you, Chœrilus, is indeed a free speaker.— filed under Epigrams
He who prefers to give Linus the half of what he wishes to borrow, rather than to lend him the whole, prefers to lose only the half.— filed under Epigrams
You do not publish your own verses, Lælius; you criticise mine. Pray cease to criticise mine, or else publish your own. C.— filed under Epigrams
You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long. You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.— filed under Epigrams
Since your reputation for wisdom, and the care which you bestow on your labors, are equal, and since your piety is not inferior to your genius, he who is surprised that a book and incense are presented to you, Regulus, is ignorant how to adapt presents to deserts.— filed under Epigrams
A certain damsel, envious Procillus, is desperately in love with me, -a nymph more white than the spotless swan, than silver, than snow, than lily, than privet: already you will be thinking of hanging yourself. But I long for one darker than night, than the ant, than pitch, than the jack-daw, than the cricket. If I know you well, Procillus, you will spare your life.— filed under Epigrams
I commend you, Postumus, for kissing me with only half your lip: you may, however, if you please, withhold even the half of this half. Are you inclined to grant me a boon still greater, and even inexpressible? Keep this whole half entirely to yourself, Postumus.— filed under Epigrams
What's this that myrrh doth still smell in thy kiss, And that with thee no other odour is? 'Tis doubt, my Postumus, he that doth smell So sweetly always, smells not very well.— filed under Epigrams
In what have I offended you, Apollo, and ye nine Sisters? For, behold, the Muse of gayety brings ill to her poet. Postumus before used to kiss me with half a lip. Now he has begun to kiss me with both lips.— filed under Epigrams
Why do I not kiss you, Philænis? you are bald. Why do I not kiss you, Philænis? you are carrotty. Why do I not kiss you, Philænis? you are one-eyed. He who kisses you, Philænis, sins against nature.— filed under Epigrams
Since your legs, Phœbus, resemble the horns of the moon, you might bathe your feet in a cornucopia.— filed under Epigrams
In whatever place you meet me, Postumus, you cry out immediately, and your very first words are, "How do you do?" You say this, even if you meet me ten times in one single hour: you, Postumus, have nothing, I suppose, to do.— filed under Epigrams
Fannius, as he was fleeing from the enemy, put himself to death. Is not this, I ask, mad- ❘ness, -to die for fear of dying?— filed under Epigrams
Jack writes severe lampoons on me, 'tis said- But he writes nothing, who is never read.— filed under Epigrams
A slave, branded on the forehead by his master, saved him when proscribed. Thus, while the life of the master was preserved, his infamy was perpetuated.— filed under Epigrams
If you wish, Faustinus, a bath of boiling water to be reduced in temperature, -a bath, such as scarcely Julianus could enter, -ask the rhetorician Sabinæus to bathe himself in it. He would freeze the warm baths of Nero.— filed under Epigrams
You wonder that Marius' ear smells unpleasantly. You are the cause of this, Nestor; you whisper into it.— filed under Epigrams
I prefer a lady; but if such is denied me, my next choice would be a freed-woman. A slave is the last resource; but if her beauty indemnifies the want of birth, I shall prefer her to either.— filed under Epigrams
You see those fish before you, a beautiful example of the sculpture of Phidias; give them water, and they will swim.— filed under Epigrams
S. My rich friends, you know nothing save how to put yourselves into a passion. It is not a nice thing for you to do, but it suits your purpose. Do it.— filed under Epigrams
The lizard, wrought upon this vessel by the hand of Mentor, is so lifelike that the silver becomes an object of terror. น.— filed under Epigrams
When you try to conceal your wrinkles, Polla, with paste made from beans, you deceive yourself, not me. Let a defect, which is possibly but small, appear undisguised. A fault concealed is presumed to be great.— filed under Epigrams
I could do without your face, and your neck, and your hands, and your limbs, and your bosom, and other of your charms. Indeed, not to fatigue myself with enumerating each of them, I could do without you, Chloe, altogether.— filed under Epigrams
A crafty innkeeper at Ravenna lately cheated me. I asked him for wine and water; he sold me pure wine.— filed under Epigrams
Lycoris has buried all the female friends she had, Fabianus: would she were the friend of my wife! C.— filed under Epigrams
The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved, in a tear of the sisters of Phæton, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar. It has obtained a worthy reward for its great toils; we may suppose that the bee itself would have desired such a death.— filed under Epigrams
Your beard is white, Olus, your hair is black. The reason is, that you cannot dye your beard, though you can dye your hair.— filed under Epigrams
Galla, say "No:" love is soon sated, unless our pleasures are mixed with some pain; but do not continue, Galla, to say "No" too long.— filed under Epigrams
Why, Thais, are you constantly saying that I am old? One is never too old, Thais, for what you-equire.— filed under Epigrams
You ere constantly, Matho, a guest at my villa at Tivoli. Now you buy it-I have deceived you; I have merely sold you what was already your own.— filed under Epigrams
Myrtale often smells of wine, but, wise, With eating bay-leaves thinks it to disguise: So nott with water tempers the wine's heate, But covers it. Henceforth if her you meete With red face and swell'd veynes, modestly say, "Sure Myrtale hath drunk o' th' bayes today?"— filed under Epigrams
My friend Stella, Severus, wears on his fingers sardonyxes, emeralds, diamonds, jaspers. Though there are many gems on his fingers, there are more in his verses, whence, I conclude, his hand is so decorated.— filed under Epigrams
Thirty times in this one year, Charinus, while you have been arranging to make your will, have I sent you cheese cakes dripping with Hyblæan thyme. I am ruined: have pity, on me at length, Charinus. Make your will less often, or do that once for all, for which your cough is ever falsely leading us to hope. I have emptied my coffers and my purse. Had I been richer than Crœsus, Charinus, I should become poorer than Irus, if you so frequently devoured my poor repast.— filed under Epigrams
Thais has black, Læcania white teeth; what is the reason? Thais has her own, Læcania bought ones.— filed under Epigrams
Philo swears that he has never dined at home, and it is so; he does not dine at all, except when invited out.— filed under Epigrams
Though I often salute you, you never salute me first; I shall therefore, Pontilianus, salute you with an eternal farewell.— filed under Epigrams
Do you wonder for what reason, Theodorus, notwithstanding your frequent requests and importunities, I have never presented you with my works? I have an excellent reason; it is lest you should present me with yours.— filed under Epigrams
Mithridates, by frequently drinking poison, rendered it impossible for any poison to hurt him. You, Cinna, by always dining on next to nothing, have taken due precaution against ever perishing from hunger.— filed under Epigrams
If you are poor now, Emilianus, you will always be poor. Riches are now given to none but the rich.— filed under Epigrams
You pursue, I fly; you fly, I pursue; such is my humor. What you wish, Dondymus, I do not wish; what you do not wish, I do.— filed under Epigrams
While an ant was wandering under the shade of the tree of Phæton, a drop of amber enveloped the tiny insect; thus she, who in life was disregarded, became precious by death. S.— filed under Epigrams
My suit has nothing to do with the assault, or battery, or poisoning, but is about three goats, which, I complain, have been stolen by my neighbor. This the judge desires to have proved to him; but you, with swelling words and extravagant gestures, dilate on the Battle of Cannæ, the Mithridatic war, and the perjuries of the insensate Carthaginians, the Syllæ, the Marii, and the Mucii. It is time, Postumus, to say something about my three goats.— filed under Epigrams
You imagine, Calliodorus, that your jesting is witty, and that you, above all others, overflow with an abundance of Attic salt. You smile at all, you utter pleasantries upon all, and you think that by so doing you will please at the dinner table. But I will tell you something, not very nice, but very true. No one will invite you, Calliodorus, to drink out of his glass.— filed under Epigrams
When your crowd of attendants so loudly applaud you, Pomponius, it is not you, but your banquet, that is eloquent.— filed under Epigrams
You manufacture, with the aid of unguents, a false head of hair, and your bald and dirty skull is covered with dyed locks. There is no need to have a hairdresser for your head. A sponge, Phœbus, would do the business better.— filed under Epigrams
You know, Marianus, that you are obsequiously courted; you know that he who courts you is a covetous fellow; you know what his attentions mean; and yet you name him in your will, foolish man, as your heir, and destine him, as if you were out of your mind, to take your place. "But he has sent me," you say, "large presents." True, but they are a baited hook; and can the fish ever love the fisherman? Will this pretender bewail your death with real sorrow? If you desire him to weep, Marianus, give him nothing.— filed under Epigrams
"You write epigrams in hexameters," is what Tucca, I know, is saying. There are, Tucca, precedents for it; in a word, Tucca, it is allowable. "But this one," you say, "is very long." There are precedents for its length also, Tucca, and it is allowable. If you approve of the shorter ones, read only my distichs. Let us agree, Tucca, that I shall be at liberty to write long epigrams, and you be at liberty not to read them.— filed under Epigrams
He who thinks that the lives of Priam and of Nestor were long is much deceived and mistaken. Life consists not in living, but in enjoying health.— filed under Epigrams
You are sad in the midst of every blessing. Take care that Fortune does not observe, or she will call you ungrateful.— filed under Epigrams
O wine of Setia! O excellent snow! O goblets constantly refilled! when am I to drink you with no doctor to prevent me? He is a fool, and ungrateful, and unworthy of so great a boon, who would rather be heir to the rich Midas than enjoy you. May he who is envi ous of me possess the harvests of Libya, and the Hermus, and the Tagus, and drink warm water.— filed under Epigrams
Cascellius numbers sixty years, and is a man of talent. When will he be a man of eloquence?— filed under Epigrams
I have not a farthing in the house; one thing only remains for me to do, Regulus, and that is, to sell the presents which I have received from you; are you inclined to buy them?— filed under Epigrams
A wild boar, a devourer of Tuscan acorns, and heavy with the fruit of many an oak, second in fame only to the monster of Ætolia, a boar which my friend Dexter pierced with glittering spear, lies an envied prey for my kitchen fire. Let my Penates fatten and exude with the pleasing steam, and my kitchen, festally adorned, blaze with a whole mountain of felled wood. But, ah! my cook will consume a vast heap of pepper, and will have to add Falernian wine to the mysterious sauce. No, return to your master, ruinous wild-boar: my kitchen fire is not for such as you; I hunger for less costly delicacies.— filed under Epigrams
Cælius, unable any longer to endure with patience the constant running from place to place, the morning calls, and the pride and cold salutations of the great, began to pretend that he had the gout. But, while he was overeager to prove his disease real, and was plastering and bandaging his sound feet, and walking with laboured step (such is the efficacy of care and art in feigned pain) he ceased to feign.— filed under Epigrams
Annius has some two hundred tables, and servants for every table. Dishes run hither and thither, and plates fly about. Such entertainments as these keep to yourselves, ye pompous; I am ill pleased with a supper that walks.— filed under Epigrams
You importune me, Tucca, to present you with my books. I shall not do so; for you want to sell, not to read, them.— filed under Epigrams
I have drunk some consular wine. You ask how old and how generous? It was bottled in the consul's own year; and he who gave it me, Severus, was that consul himself.— filed under Epigrams
Whilst the barber Eutrapelus is going the round of Lupercus's face, and carefully smoothing his cheeks, another beard springs up.— filed under Epigrams
For sometimes writing quatrains which are not devoid of humour, Sabellus, and for composing a few distichs prettily, I commend you; but I am not astonished at you. It is easy to write a few epigrams prettily; but to write a book of them is difficult.— filed under Epigrams
What the small onyx box contained was perfume; Papilus smelt it, and it is become a mass of corruption.— filed under Epigrams
Is this pleading causes, Cinna? Is this speaking eloquently, to say nine words in ten hours? Just now you asked with a loud voice for four more clepsydræ. What a long time you take to say nothing, Cinna! C.— filed under Epigrams
Hylas, the blear-eyed, lately offered to pay you three-quarters of his debt; now that he has lost one eye he offers you half. Hasten to take it; the opportunity for getting it may soon pass, for if Hylas should become blind, he would pay you nothing.— filed under Epigrams
Do you ask why I am unwilling to marry a rich wife? It is because I am unwilling to be taken to husband by my wife. The mistress of the house should be subordinate to her husband, for in no other way, Priscus, will the wife and husband be on an equality.— filed under Epigrams
I bought what you called a fool for twenty thousand sesterces. Return me my money, Gargilianus; he is no fool at all.— filed under Epigrams
I pleaded your cause, Sextus, having agreed to do so for two thousand sesterces. How is it that you have sent me only a thousand? "You said nothing," you tell me; "and this cause was lost through you." You ought to give me so much the more, Sextus, as I had to blush for you.— filed under Epigrams
I seem to you cruel and too much addicted to gluttony, when I beat my cook for sending up a bad dinner. If that appears to you too trifling a cause, say for what cause you would have a cook flogged.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 23. He who makes presents to you, Gaurus, rich and old as you are, says plainly, if you have but sense and can understand him, "Die!"— filed under Epigrams
He who writes distichs, wishes, I suppose, to please by brevity. But, tell me, of what avail is their brevity, when there is a whole book full of them?— filed under Epigrams
You make a pretty confession about yourself, Dento, when, after taking a wife, you petition for the rights of the father of three children. But cease to importune the emperor, and return, though a little behind time, to your own country; for, after so long seeking three children far away from your deserted wife, you will find four at home.— filed under Epigrams
Fabius buries his wives, Chrestilla her husbands; each shakes a funeral torch over the nuptial couch. Unite these conquerors, Venus, and the result will then be that Libitina will carry them both off together.— filed under Epigrams
Part of your face is clipped, part shaven. part has the hair pulled out. Who would think that you have but one head?— filed under Epigrams
You admire, Vacerra, only the poets of old, and praise only those who are dead. Pardon me, I beseech you, Vacerra, if I think death too high a price to pay for your praise.— filed under Epigrams
Cædicianus, I lent my barber (a young man, but skilled in his art even beyond Nero's Thalamus, whose lot it was to clip the beards of the Drusi) to Rufus, at his request, to make his cheeks smooth for once. But, at Rufus' orders, he was so long occupied in going over the same hairs again and again, consulting the mirror that guided his hand, cleaning the skin, and making a tedious second attack on the locks previously shorn, that my barber at last returned to me with his own beard full grown.— filed under Epigrams
All your female friends are either old or ugly; nay, more ugly than old women usually are. These you lead about in your train, and drag with you to feasts, porticos, and theaters. Thus, Fabulla, you seem handsome, thus you seem young.— filed under Epigrams
You wish, Paula, to marry Priscus. I am not surprised; you are wise: Priscus will not marry you and he is wise.— filed under Epigrams
I have been desirous for five whole days, Afer, to greet you on your return from among the people of Africa. "He is engaged," or "he is asleep," is the answer I have received on calling two or three times. It is enough, Afer; you do not wish me to say, "How do you do?" so I'll say, "Good-by."— filed under Epigrams
Fabius has bequeathed you nothing, Bithynicus; although you used to present him yearly, if I remember right, with six thousand sesterces. He has bequeathed nothing more to any one; so do not complain, Bithynicus; he has at least saved you six thousand sesterces a year.— filed under Epigrams
Though you willingly dine at other people's houses, Cantharus, you indulge yourself there in clamour, and complaints, and threats. Lay aside this fierce humour, I advise you. A man cannot be both independent and a glutton.— filed under Epigrams
The shameless Chloe placed on the tombs of her seven husbands the inscription, "The work of Chloe." How could she have expressed herself more plainly?— filed under Epigrams
You praise, in three hundred verses, Sabellus, the baths of Ponticus, who gives such excellent dinners. You wish to dine, Sabellus, not to bathe.— filed under Epigrams
On your birthday, Quintus, I wished to make you a small present: you forbade me; you are imperious. I must obey your injunction: let that be done which we both desire, and which will please us both. Do you, Quintus, make me a present.— filed under Epigrams
O Liber, whose brows are adorned with the Spartan crown, and whose Roman hand strikes blows worthy of Greece, when you send me a dinner, why does the wicker basket, in which it is conveyed, contain no wine-flask as an accompaniment? If you mean to make presents worthy of your name, you are aware, I suppose, that you ought to have sent me.— filed under Epigrams
An astrologer declared, Munna, that you would soon come to an end; and I believe he spoke the truth. For, through fear of leaving anything behind you, you have squandered your inheritance in luxuries; your two millions have dwindled away in less than a year. Tell me, Munna, is not this coming soon to an end?— filed under Epigrams
While you were trying to catch me, Rufus, you used to send me presents; since you have caught me, you have given me nothing. To keep me when caught, send presents to me now as you did before, lest the boar, being badly fed, escape from his cage.— filed under Epigrams
The doctor Herodes had filched a cup belonging to his patients. Being detected, he exclaimed: "Fool! what need have you of drink?"— filed under Epigrams
The produce of the vineyards has not failed everywhere, Ovidius. The heavy rains have been productive. Coranus made up a hundred jars by means of the water.— filed under Epigrams
You give me back, Phœbus, my bond for four hundred thousand sesterces; lend me rather a hundred thousand morè. Seek some one else to whom you may vaunt your empty present: what I cannot pay you, Phœbus, is my own.— filed under Epigrams
Marius neither asks any one to dinner, nor sends presents, nor becomes security for any one, nor is willing to lend; indeed, he has nothing to lend. Nevertheless, a crowd is found to court his barren friendship. Alas! how besotted, Rome, are the wearers of thy toga!— filed under Epigrams
Do you ask, Philænis, why I often come abroad with plaister on my chin, or with my lips covered with salve when nothing ails them? I do not wish to kiss you.— filed under Epigrams
The happy Antonius Primus now numbers fifteen Olympiads (60 years) passed in tranquillity; he looks back upon the days that are gone, and the whole of his past years, without fearing the waters of Lethe, to which he daily draws nearer. Not one day of his brings remorse or an unpleasant reflection; there is none which he would be unwilling to recall. A good man lengthens his term of existence; to be able to enjoy our past life is to live twice.— filed under Epigrams
Why do you swear, Lesbia, that you were born in the consulship of Brutus? You say falsely, Lesbia; you were born in the reign of Numa. Should you even admit that, you would seem to say falsely; for, judging by your decrepitude, you must have been formed by the hand of Prometheus.— filed under Epigrams
Your seventh wife, Phileros, is now being buried in your field. No man's field brings him greater profit than yours, Phileros.— filed under Epigrams
You are always wishing, Matho, to speak finely; speak sometimes merely well; sometimes neither well or ill; sometimes even ill.— filed under Epigrams
You put fine dishes on your table, Olus, but you alway put them on covered. This is ridiculous; in the same way I could put fine dishes on my table.— filed under Epigrams
You collect your straggling hairs on each side, Marinus, endeavoring to conceal the vast expanse of your shining bald pate by the locks which still grow on your temples. But the hairs disperse, and return to their own place with every gust of wind; flanking your bare poll on either side with crude tufts. We might imagine we saw Hermeros of Cydas standing between Speudophorus and Telesphorus. Why not confess yourself an old man? Be content to seem what you really are, and let the barber shave off the rest of your hair. There is nothing more contemptible than a bald man who pretends to have hair.— filed under Epigrams
This Juno, Polycletus, your happy workmanship and masterpiece, which would do honor to the hand of Phidias, displays such beauty that, had she thus appeared on Mount Ida, the Judge would have felt no hesitation in preferring her to the other goddesses. If Jupiter had not loved his sister Juno, he might, Polycletus, have fallen in love with your Juno.— filed under Epigrams
While the lightly-piled funeral pyre was being supplied with paper to kindle it; while the desolate wife was buying myrrh and lavender; when the grave, the bier, the corpseanointer, were all ready, Numa made me his heir, and forthwith recovered.— filed under Epigrams
Why, simpleton, do you mix your verses with mine? What have you to do, foolish man, with writings that convict you of theft? Why do you attempt to associate foxes with lions, and make owls pass for eagles? Though you had one of Ladas's legs, you would not be able, blockhead, to run with the other leg of wood.— filed under Epigrams
Charm of my life, Telesphorus, sweet object of my cares, whose like never before lay in my arms, give me, fair one, kisses redolent of the fragrance of old Falernian, give me goblets of which thy lips have first partaken. If, in addition to this, you grant me the pleasure of true affection, I shall say that Jove is not more happy at the side of Ganymede.— filed under Epigrams
You invite some three hundred guests, all unknown to me, and then wonder that I do not accept your invitation, and complain, and are ready to quarrel with me. Fabullus, I do not like to dine alone.— filed under Epigrams
You ask for lively epigrams, and propose lifeless subjects. What can I do, Cæcilianus? You expect Hyblæn or Hymethian honey to be produced, and yet offer the Attic bee nothing but Corsican thyme?— filed under Epigrams
To relieve your throat, Parthenopæus, which is incessantly inflamed by a severe cough, your doctor prescribes honey, and nuts, and sweet cakes, and everything that is given to children to prevent them from being unruly. But you do not give over coughing all day long. A cough is not your malady, Parthenopœus; it is gluttony. i. Martial-Epigrams. Bk. XI. Ep. 86. And have you been able, Flaccus, to see the slender Thais? Then, Flaccus, I suspect you can see what is invisible.— filed under Epigrams
You utter all sorts of falsehoods, Pontilianus; I assent to them. You recite bad verses; I praise them. You sing; I do the same. You drink, Pontilianus; I drink also. You are rude; I pretend not to perceive it. You wish to play at chess; I allow myself to be beaten. There is one thing only which you do without me, and I hold my tongue on the subject. Yet you never make me the slightest present. "When I die," say you, "I shall remember you handsomely." I do not look for anything; but die.— filed under Epigrams
When to secure your bald pate from the weather, You lately wore a cap of black neats' leather; He was a very wag, who to you said, "Why do you wear your slippers on your head?"— filed under Epigrams
In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow; Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen about thee, That there's no living with thee, or without thee. m. Martial-Epigrams. Bk. XII. Ep. 47. Trans. by Addison. Spectator. No. 68. Tom had a lad lame with a broken thigh; And an old housekeeper with but one eye: On greasy steaks from chop-house did regale; And against drunkards most devoutly rail. Did you for bottles after dinner call; He damn'd the bottles, glasses, wine and all. Now an estate is from an uncle come; He from the tavern ne'er goes sober home; Such the effect of plate and lacqueys five! When poor, Tom was the soberest man alive.— filed under Epigrams
I have granted you much that you asked: and yet you never cease to ask of me. He who refuses nothing, Atticilla, will soon have nothing to refuse.— filed under Epigrams
You often ask me, Priscus, what sort of person I should be, if I were to become suddenly rich and powerful. Who can determine what would be his future conduct? Tell me, if you were to become a lion, what sort of a lion would you be? b. Martial-Epigrams. Bk. XII. Ep. 92. Lettuce, which closed the suppers of our sires, Tell me, why our commencing feast admires? C.— filed under Epigrams
The duck decoys you. Pick the neck and breast. And to the worthy cook return the rest.— filed under Epigrams
As long as I have fat turtle-doves, a fig for your lettuce, my friend, and you may keep your shell-fish to yourself. I have no wish to waste my appetite.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 53. See, how the liver is swollen larger than a fat goose! In amazement you will exclaim : Where could this possibly grow?— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 58. Whether woodcock or partridge, what does it signify, if the taste is the same? But the partridge is dearer, and therefore thought preferable.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 76. However great the dish that holds the turpot, the turbot is still greater than the dish.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 81. I am a shell-fish just come from being saturated with the waters of the Lucrine lake, near Baiæ; but now I luxuriously thirst for noble pickle.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 82. If my opinion is of any worth, the fieldfare is the greatest delicacy among birds, the hare among quadrupeds.— filed under Epigrams
See how the mountain goat hangs from the summit of the cliff; you would expect it to fall; it is merely showing its contempt for the dogs.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 99. Attic honey thickens the nectar-like Falernian. Such drink deserves to be mixed by Ganymede.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 108. Let Nepos place Cæretan wine on table, and you will deem it Setine. But he does not give it to all the world; he drinks it only with a trio of friends.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 124. Never think of leaving perfumes or wine to your heir. Administer these yourself, and let him have your money.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 126. Why do strong arms fatigue themselves with frivolous dumb-bells? To dig a vineyard is a worthier exercise for men.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 49. That which prevents disagreeable flies from feeding on your repast, was once the proud tail of a splendid bird.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 67. If your slave commits a fault, do not smash his teeth with your fists; give him some of the (hard) biscuit which famous Rhodes has sent you.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 68. I, a parrot, am taught by you the names of others; I have learned of myself to say, "Hail! Cæsar!"— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 73. This hand will protect your shoulders from the bite of the troublesome flea, or from other things more offensive than a flea. S.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 83. You crystal break, for fear of breaking it: Careless and careful hands like faults commit.— filed under Epigrams
I'm what I seem; not any dyer gave, But nature dyed this colour that I have.— filed under Epigrams
Ep. 133. Trans, by Wright. (On a shorthand writer.) The swifter hand doth the swift words outrun: Before the tongue hath spoke the hand hath done.— filed under Epigrams
A cook should double one sense have: for he Should taster for himself and master be.— filed under Epigrams
Nolo virum facili redimit qui sanguine famam; Hunc volo laudari qui sine morte potest. I do not like the man who squanders life for fame; give me the man who living makes a name. S.— filed under Fame
Si post fata venit gloria non propero. If fame comes after death, I am in no hurry for it.— filed under Fame
Nullo fata loco possis excludere. From no place can you exclude the fates.— filed under Fate
A beau is one who arranges his curled locks gracefully, who ever smells of balm, and cinnamon; who hums the songs of the Nile, and Cadiz; who throws his sleek arms into various attitudes; who idles away the whole day among the chairs of the ladies, and is ever whispering into some one's ear; who reads little billets-doux from this quarter and that, and writes them in return; who avoids ruffling his dress by contact with his neighbour's sleeve, who knows with whom everybody is in love; who flutters from feast to feast, who can recount exactly the pedigree of Hirpinus. What do you tell me? is this a beau, Cotilus? Then a beau, Cotilus, is a very trifling thing.— filed under Forgetfulness
Fortuna multis dat nimis, satis nulli. Fortune gives too much to many, enough to none.— filed under Fortune
Non bene, crede mihi, servo servitur amico; Sit liber, dominus qui volet esse meus. Service cannot be expected from a friend in service; let him be a freeman who wishes to be my master.— filed under Freedom
Quisquis magna dedit, voluit sibi magna remitti. Whoever makes great presents, expects great presents in return.— filed under Gifts
S. Cineri gloria sera est. Glory paid to our ashes comes too late.— filed under Glory
Illa dolet vere qui sine teste dolet. She grieves sincerely who grieves unseen.— filed under Grief
Semper bonus homo tiro est. An honest man is always a child.— filed under Honesty
Nec tecum possum vivere, nec sine te. I can neither live with you nor without you.— filed under Impossibility
The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved, in a tear of the sisters of Phaëton, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar. It has obtained a worthy reward for its great toils; we may suppose that the bee itself would have desired such a death.— filed under Insects-Bee
Et teneo melius ista quam meum nomen. I know all that better than my own name,— filed under Labor
Stultus labor est ineptiarum. Labor bestowed on trifles is silly.— filed under Labor
Ampliat ætatis spatium sibi vir bonus: hoc est vivere bis, vitâ posse priore frui. A good man doubles the length of his existence; to have lived so as to look back with pleasure on our past existence is to live twice.— filed under Life
Non est, crede mihi sapientis dicere "vivam." Sera nimis vita est crastina, vive hodie. It is not, believe me, the act of a wise man to say, "I will live." To-morrow's life is too late; live to-day.— filed under Life
Non est vivere, sed valere vita. Life is not mere living, but the enjoyment of health.— filed under Life
Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare; Hoc tantum posse dicere: non amo te. I do not love thee, Sabidius, nor can I say why; I can only say this, "I do not love thee."— filed under Love
Non scribit, cujus carmina nemo legit. He does not write whose verses no one reads.— filed under Poets
Non est paupertas, Nestor, habere nihil. To have nothing is not poverty.— filed under Power
Summam nec metuas diem, nec optes. You should neither fear nor wish for your last day.— filed under Resignation
To-morrow you will live, you always cry; In what fair country does this morrow lie, That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive? Beyond the Indies does this morrow live? 'Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear 'Twill be both very old and very dear. "To-morrow I will live," the fool does say: To-day itself's too late; -the wise lived yesterday.— filed under To-Morrow
Quisquis plus justo non sapit, ille sapit. Whoever is not too wise is wise.— filed under Wisdom
1158. Uxori nubere nolo meæ. My wife shall not rule me.— filed under Woman
The bee enclosed, and through the amber shown Seems buried in the juice which was his own.— filed under Wooing
Qui sua metitur pondera ferre potest. He who weighs his burdens, can bear them.— filed under Fortitude
Cur in theatrum, Cato, severe, venisti? Why, Cato, do you enter the theater with such a look of severity?— filed under Serenity
Ego esse miserum credo, cui placet nemo. I believe that man to be wretched whom none can please.— filed under Unhappiness